


Clairvoyant consciousness

by Qpenguin98



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 01, Shotgunning, Trans Male Character, Weed, both of em, hell yeah, just a lil, martin and tim should kiss thats what i think!, sometimes you kiss your work friend while youre high and it's a good time, this is set in, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: “No no,” Tim says as he waves a hand in front of him. “Weed. Have you ever smoked weed before?”“Oh.” Martin looks at him, tries to figure out if this is some sort of trap, some trick to get him caught out. “Yeah. I have.”"D'you want to?"
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 109





	Clairvoyant consciousness

Martin is stressed. This isn’t new. Martin is always stressed about something or other; his mum, his job, state of the world in general. But this time it’s eating at him. There’s nothing even particularly different. Just a million little things setting his mind on edge. A nurse called yesterday, told him his mother asked him not to come this weekend, and he hates that he feels relieved not to have to go. He over steeped the tea earlier, screwed up the filing for a statement, stumbled over his words trying to find a way that sounded academic enough as an answer. At this rate they’re going to figure him out, take a second look at his CV that they probably glanced over for a degree the first time and find something he missed, an i he didn’t dot, a t left uncrossed, some secret academic code that he’s not been made aware of. They’ll find him out and fire him and report him and he’ll be out of a job and any job opportunities and oh god all of the _money_ —

“Hey,” Tim says, startling him out of his spiral. Martin looks up from the paper he’s holding, loosening his grip from where it’d been crumpling the edges.

He starts to reply and find nothing coming out of his throat. He coughs, clearing it. “Yeah?”

“You wanna hang out after work? Come over to my place, go over to yours, grab some take out?”

Martin stares at him for a minute, silent. Tim is nice, sure, but he wouldn’t exactly call them “friends.” Though, he’s not really got a lot of friends, so maybe he’s just not sure what the qualifiers are. They’ve gotten drinks together with Sasha after work before, talked about their lives in and outside of work, but he can’t imagine Tim just wanting to hang out with him with no preamble. Unless—

“Are you propositioning me?” he asks, voice quiet. Sasha’s stepped out and Jon’s door is closed, but he doesn’t want to take any chances.

Tim raises his eyebrows. “I mean if you want to we can talk about it, but honestly I was just hoping to eat some overly greasy pizza and relax.”

Of course. _Of course._ Martin is still confused but that doesn’t mean he has to jump straight to Tim wanting to have sex with him. He can feel the flush crawling up his neck and cheeks. “I’m so sorry, oh my god. I didn’t mean to imply… I don’t— obviously that wasn’t what that was, I don’t even know what I was thinking I—”

“Breathe?” Martin realizes with a start that he’s run out of air and stops stammering, pulling in a full breath. “There we go. Honestly, Marto, don’t worry about it. It’s not unheard of, and I definitely wouldn’t be opposed, but it’s not what I’m looking for tonight. Just looking to hang out with a friend.”

 _Marto_ , he thinks, head still spinning. “Yeah,” comes out of his mouth with no thought. “That would be nice.”

Tim brightens up. “Perfect! We’ll hash out the details after work, but you, me, and pizza for two sounds like a good enough base. You in?”

“Definitely in,” he tells him, and Tim grins at him.

“Excellent,” he says, squeezing his shoulder before going back over to his desk.

Tim’s waiting for him after work, coat on, scarf tucked into the neck. Martin bundles up and comes up next to him, bidding Jon and Sasha a good night. Sasha returns the sentiment and Jon barely looks up from his papers long enough to wave him off.

“Alright,” Tim says as they walk up the stairs to leave. “Ordering pizza for two people is a whole fiasco with toppings. I’ll honestly eat anything that’s not all meat. There’s gotta be a vegetable in there _some_ where. What are your no goes?”

“Not the biggest fan of mushrooms,” he says, thinking. “Oh, and sausage. I do not like sausage.”

“Why Martin,” Tim says, placing a hand on his chest. “You did not seem opposed to _sausage_ earlier when you thought I was ‘propositioning’ you. Have I read you all wrong?”

Martin groans and Tim laughs, crooked smile splitting his face. He can feel his lips quirking up at the edges and allows himself a small smile.

“On pizza,” he says once Tim’s laughed himself out. “I like _sausage_ just fine elsewhere.”

“Martin Blackwood!” Tim exclaims, covering his mouth with a hand. “You tart of a man!”

Martin can’t help the laugh that falls out of his mouth and Tim grins at him. He pulls his phone out as they reach the doors of the building, pulling up the number of a local pizza place.

“So what I’m hearing is green pepper and pineapple?” Tim says, finger hovering over the call button. Martin nods, because he’s never had just those two on a pizza before but it doesn’t sound half bad, and Tim hits the call button. “Should arrive a little after we make it to one of our places. Speaking of, yours or mine?”

“Yours,” Martin says without having to think about it. Martin likes his flat, but it’s hardly a place he brings other people. He doesn’t want to worry about the pile of laundry on the couch, the unmade bed, his multiple plants littering every surface available. Tim accepts this with a nod right as Martin hears a muffled voiced come from the speaker.

He orders, and they make their way to the tube, chatting about the different statements they’ve been assigned, what legwork is involved, and it devolves into past jobs and the way they all bleed into each other. What’s different, what’s the same, how researching the paranormal is really exactly like researching anything else, just with some bigger disappointments when things end up not true.

They beat the pizza by a grand total of two minutes, Tim slipping outside to grab it almost right after kicking his shoes off. Martin offers to pay but Tim insists. “I’m the one that invited you to hang out! You can get the next one, if you really, really want to.”

 _The next one_ Martin thinks. He supposes he should stop being surprised at this point. Tim clearly wants to be friends, and while Martin feels a bit pulled along for the ride now, he doesn’t think he’d mind. It would be nice, having a friend at work. Having an actual friend in general.

Tim comes back up with he pizza, hip checking the door shut behind him and kicking his shoes into the corner again. They settle on the couch with the box between them, napkins piled on the edge of the cushion.

“This is surprisingly good,” Martin says with a mouthful of pizza. “Never had just these two together before.”

“It’s good for something simple. Not in the mood for lotsa veg? Green pepper’s good, and pineapple’s good on almost any ‘za,” he punctuates this point by taking a massive bite with two pieces of pineapple on it, “so they make a good combo.”

It comes out a bit more like “sho zey make ah goo’ com’o” and Martin snorts, covering his mouth to keep from spitting pizza everywhere. Tim rolls his eyes and stuffs his mouth with more pizza, chewing exaggerated around too much food.

About a third of the pizza is left when they’re finished, box pushed onto the coffee table. Tim has his legs up on the couch, a hair away from touching Martin’s, and he’s doing his best to ignore it.

“Martin,” Tim says, and he almost jumps, turning his head in question. “You ever smoked before?”

Martin furrows his brow. “Cigarettes? Yeah, once. Wasn’t a fan of the taste.”

“No no,” Tim says as he waves a hand in front of him. “Weed. Have you ever smoked weed before?”

“Oh.” Martin looks at him, tries to figure out if this is some sort of trap, some trick to get him caught out. “Yeah. I have.”

He doesn’t attach a time, not that it was any time recent regardless. But if need be he can play it off as being stupid in secondary school if he needs to.

“D’you want to?”

“Now?” Martin says, a bit surprised. He definitely hadn’t thought that was why he was asking.

“You can say no,” Tim tells him. “Forget I asked, if you like. Just a thought. I know we’ve got work tomorrow.”

“No that’s—,” he cuts himself off, actually thinks about it. It’s been a long time since he’s smoked with another person, but he remembers it being fun the last time. Tim is… Tim is fun. Martin likes Tim. He’s settled into this situation very easily and he thinks smoking with Tim wouldn’t be awful. It would probably be kind of fun. “Yeah. Yeah I want to.”

“Cool,” Tim says, swinging off the couch. “Be right back!”

He comes back with a pouch, sitting on the couch and fishing out a pipe, a grinder, and a lighter from it. Tim packs the bowl with efficiency, tongue poking from between his lips as he concentrates on not dropping anything. Martin finds it hopelessly endearing, etching the image in his brain. Tim glances up at him to find Martin staring and winks, grinning. Martin flushes and moves his eyes to stare directly at the ceiling.

“You’re looking pretty cute as well there, Martin,” Tim teases, and Martin lets out a mortified noise. “I kid, I kid! But really, you are cute.”

Tim doesn’t say anything else as he takes the first hit, lighter flicking on with his thumb. His eyes hood as he sucks in, pulling a deep inhale before he pulls it back, holding it in for a second before breathing out. He passes the pipe and the lighter to him, and Martin marvels at the size of it.

“It’s so… small,” he says, turning the lighter over in his hand as he stares at it.

“I like ‘em novelty sized,” is the answer he gets to the unasked question of “why?” “They fit better in my hand and honestly they’re just cuter. I mean, look at it? How am I supposed to go back to normal lighters after using this bad boy?”

Martin lights up, feels the pleasantly familiar haze wash over his brain as he lets the smoke out after, closing his eyes. It’s been a minute since he’s been high, and this honesty might be exactly what he needs to kill the anxiety that’s been plaguing him the past week.

They pass back and forth for a while, and Martin has to admit that he really does like the smaller lighter. Mostly for the novelty. It’s so small in his hand, and his hands are bigger than Tim’s so it’s not quite as comfortable, but being able to look down and see something that small every time he goes to take a hit sends a little spike of joy through his chest every time.

“You ever try shotgunning?” Tim asks, legs firmly sprawled atop Martin’s, elbow resting on the arm rest while he rolls his wrist in circles.

“A long time ago,” Martin says once the fact that those words are meant for him catches up in his brain. “Second boyfriend w… wanted to see how it’d go. Ended up coughing up a lung ‘cause he blew a buncha smoke in my mouth all at once.”

Tim snorts, head tipping forward, chin pressing into his chest. “You _do_ like sausage.”

Martin lets out a stream of giggles, clutching the pipe tightly so it doesn’t slip out of his grip. “Duh! Have you looked at me, Tim? Do I look like a straight person? I’ve got… I’ve got tinted fucking lenses, Timberly Smoker!”

Tim absolutely cackles, feet digging into Martin’s thigh, shoulders bunching up. “ _Timberly Smoker_?” What the hell, Martin! Th- That’s the absolute worst! I should… I… I’ll call you a fucking _teahead_ then, Marto.”

Martin can’t help himself, he curls up laughing at that, his neck against Tim’s shin. His ears ring with the feeling, limbs buzzing at the sensation of glee travelling his body. Tim’s shaking with laughter, heels pressed firmly to his legs, and Martin feels like his whole body is humming.

It takes them a long time to stop laughing. Just when he thinks he’s done, he’ll remember Tim calling him a teahead of all things and fall back into his fit of giggles, dragging Tim right along with him. Eventually Martin can look at him without laughing, and Tim can hear his name without clenching his mouth closed to stave off his own titters. Martin passes the pipe back to him then, handing the too small, must hold lighter after it.

He tries to think about why they were laughing without laughing again and remembers all at once.

“Why?” he asks, looking at him with a cocked head. It’s thrumming, buzzing, needs to not be straight on.

“Why what?” Tim says, halting the path of the pipe.

“Why’d you wanna know if I’d shotgunned?”

“Oh!” He smiles, lips pulling up more on the left side than the right. Martin think’s it’s the best smile he’s ever seen. “Was gonna ask if you wanted to try it.”

Martin’s brain stops working for a minute and he stares at Tim blankly as he tries to parse together what that sentence means. It hits him all at once and he blinks. “That’s… intimate, isn’t it?”

“You’re the one that thought I was trying to hook up with you,” Tim points out, and Martin frowns.

“Are… is that what you—?”

“Oh god no,” Tim says, drawing the ‘god’ out as he tips his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. “’m not in the fuck mood tonight, wasn’t lying about that. And if I were, we are waaaaaaay too high for me to be comfortable with it. I would, however be up for some kissing between friends if you are down. Totally get if you’re not, it’s not for everyone. Plus we work together. And we’re high. Like… really high. Probably should stop smoking right now because we’ll be dead tired at work tomorrow, high, but I wanna shotgun with you if you want. See if it’s any better than I remember. Been since college that I actually did it, and it was almost as messy as yours.”

“Oh,” Martin says, thinking. There’s a nagging feeling that he needs to bring up something important before they kiss, something that makes this different, but he can’t recall and his lips are tingling with the promise of the first contact they’ve gotten in over a year. “Yeah. That… it sounds really nice, Tim.”

“M’kay,” he says, smiling. He pulls another hit and keeps it in this time. Martin leans to meet him in the middle as Tim’s hands come up to cup the space between their lips to keep the smoke from escaping. He raises an eyebrow and Martin mouths an affirmative. Smoke trickles from the gaps in his teeth as he smiles, eye lidding as he bridges the gap.

It’s not a kiss at first, more a light press of pursed lips against his open mouth, smoke falling slowly into the open space of his mouth, filling the space between their faces. Martin breathes in through it, and it’s much more manageable than the last time he did this. This is an easy inhale, a light tug at his lungs, and he closes his eyes.

Tim moves his hands from the space between them when he’s finished, cupping his jaw and pressing his lips to Martin’s with intent this time. It’s a soft kiss, and Martin exhales through his nose to keep the smoke from being shared again. A tongue licks at his lips and he opens them, allowing Tim to let himself in, deepening the kiss, tilting his head just so in a way that sends a thrill up his spine. It’s been a long time since Martin’s been kissed, longer since it was someone he cared about, and he feels like he’s floating from the pleasure of the sensation.

All at once he remembers the thing that changes this, the fact that Tim doesn’t know. Everyone at the office is under the impression that he’s thirty one while he’s actually twenty eight. It’s three years, hardly a massive lie, but it’s not the age that Tim thinks he is. And that makes this very, very bad.

He pushes Tim back by the shoulders, whose face is a model of shock for a long moment before twisting into concern.

“Martin?” he asks, raising a hand to touch him, but Martin shakes his head.

“It’s not you,” he says, blinking, trying to make his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I’m. It’s me, I— I’m twenty eight.”

Tim just stares at him. And then the dip in his brow deepens. “You’re what?”

“I _know_ I told everyone I was thirty one. I know. It’s… I… My CV. I lied on my CV to get the job. I don’t have a degree. I don’t even have a diploma.” He can’t help the whole truth from spilling out, staring at the spot on Tim’s pants where he’d dropped pizza sauce earlier. “I dropped out when I was seventeen. Had to take more hours to take care of me and my mum. And I needed this job. The pay was too good not to try. A-and no one really looked I guess, which I didn’t expect. I didn’t think I’d get it. I thought they’d turn me away and I’d never try lying on an application again but it _worked_ and I’d forged my age on the sheet so I had to commit to it in the job and you thought I was thirty one and I’m not and I _know_ it’s only three years but it’s three years you didn’t know about and—”

A hand presses to his lips and Martin jerks, stopping in surprise. He looks up at Tim and finds him looking at him softly. He feels overwhelmed all at once, feels his eyes wetting behind his glasses and he blinks to keep them from tearing up.

“Thank you,” Tim says, keeping his fingers pressed to Martin’s mouth so he can’t interrupt him. “For telling me. It’s… yeah, that’s not as big of a shock as it probably should be, but I’m glad I know. I’m not gonna tell anyone, if you’re worried. And I would’ve liked to know before I kissed you, sure, but Martin I’m thirty. If you were, say, twenty six or lower, that would be a massive no for me. And thinking you were older than me really makes this a different situation, but I’m not mad. I get it, or I probably don’t and can’t, but I get needing this job. I’ve got…. Completely unrelated reasons for needing this job, but they’re important. And yours are important, and that means keeping up appearances that you’re the age you say you are.”

Martin’s eyes are glazing over, and Tim tips his head and smiles. “So if you want, I’d really like to kiss you again. Both our ages out on the table. If you don’t, I get it. Bit of a rough patch we had there.”

Martin breathes, forces his mush brain to compose its emotions, lets the pleasant feeling of Tim’s stare wash over him, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, a bit muffled against Tim’s fingers. He lightens the press but doesn’t pull them away completely. “The kissing was nice.”

Tim smiles, a soft, genuine thing that almost chokes Martin up again, and switches how he’s sitting, legs underneath him as he leans in to kiss him again. Martin’s eyes lid and Tim’s close and their lips meet, Martin pulling Tim’s bottom lip between his own. A hand presses to his shoulder, the other at the curve of his jaw, tilting his head just so for maximum sensation.

He feels warm, soft like putty, and he rests his own hands; one on Tim’s chest and the other cradling the back of his head. Tim hums in approval and Martin watches as his brows squeeze together and upwards.

It’s sort of damp, a little messy, and tastes like the pizza they ate and the mouthy taste of weed, but Martin loves it. Tim’s lips against his own are the perfect pressure point, a deep, time worn ache lifting as his body floods with the feeling, brain tingling under the feeling of the kiss and the weed together. He loves kissing while high. Both partners are a bit uncoordinated, and Martin might be a little out of practice, but Tim kisses him like it’s his god given duty.

He breaks the kiss, mouthing down the corner of Martin’s mouth, the edge of his jaw, the fleshy dip in his neck. Tim sucks at the skin there and Martin lets out a shaky whine, fingers gripping the hair under his hand. Time gives an appreciative hum and nibbles at the skin, drawing another quiet noise from Martin.

“No sex,” Tim says, pulling back. “But is this okay?”

“Glad I don’t have a ‘sausage,’” Martin jokes, and Tim devolves into laughter once again.

“Ditto,” he says eventually, just taking a moment to look at him, and Martin rolls his eyes and pulls him in, sucking a mark into the skin just under Tim’s shirt collar. Tim lets out a noise that sounds like it’s ripped from him, hips jerking into the air and hands grabbing Martin’s shoulders tightly.

“Martin Blackwood, you are full of surprises,” Tim says breathily.

“So I’ve been told,” he says, pulling lightly at Tim’s hair as he does his best to suck another mark. Tim lets out a shaky moan, pulling away.

“Ah,” he says, face flushed heavily. “I take it back. This is _really_ good, Martin, but it’s making me super horny, so I’m gonna veto neck kissing on me for now. I’m gonna… raincheck?”

Martin nods, head dragging along behind him, and Tim pushes him back, maneuvering them so that Tim’s laying on top of him, leaning down to kiss him again.

It’s lazy, and hazy, and Martin can feel himself drifting a bit, but god is it nice. He feels content to just do this, to kiss and have Tim lying on top of him with Martin’s arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes are happily closed, and he’s deeply comfortable. Everything feels right for the first time in a long time, the air around them still hazy from the smoke, warmth spread though his whole body, toes curling in his socks at the feeling of lips happily pressed to his own.

He flags after a while, as he always does when he’s high. The tired overtakes the buzzing, and he gets very close to falling asleep then and there. Tim catches on, leaning up on his elbows and looking at him.

“Hey,” Martin says, lips quirked.

“Hey yourself,” Tim says, smiling. “You wanna sleep here?”

“If I can,” he says, stroking a gentle thumb down Tim’s back. “Probably leave pretty early to go get some different, not the same as today clothes.”

“M’kay.” Tim kisses him again, soft and gentle, and then swings upright. “Bed or couch? Or share?”

“Are you alright with sharing?” He furrows his brow and Tim brings a thumb up to smooth it out.

“We just made out for half the night, Martin. I think we’re past the part of being embarrassed over sharing a bed.”

“Fair.” Martin yawns, stretching his arms up as he rises, wincing at a twinge. “Share then.”

The get ready for bed, Martin stripping to his boxers and undershirt, Tim in sweats and a t-shirt. He gives up on anything else, resolving himself to leaving early to get a head start on the day.

He realizes as he’s laying in Tim’s bed, sheets soft, Tim, pressed to his side, that this was probably all planned. An endeavor to get Martin to relax a bit, to stop looking like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin. It makes him feel even warmer and fuzzier, and he wraps the arm around Tim tighter.”

“Tim?”

“Mm?” comes his sleepy reply.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Marto. Y’looked tired, figured I’d give you a night to chill out, stop thinking so hard.”

“It worked,” he whispers into the night air. He feels Tim shift and then he’s rolled over, front pressed to front, arm over his waist.

“Get some sleep, Martin. We got time to talk it out.”

“Mmhm,” Martin lets out, blinking his eyes shut, snuggling in closer. “G’night.”

“Night.”

He’ll have to deal with their bad late night decisions in the morning, post high haze of tiredness following him back to his own flat, and then to work, but the press of the Tim against him, the satisfied feeling in his ribcage, the loss of tightness in his shoulders, it makes it all worth it.

Very, very worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao after months of nothing i come back with a oneshot written in four hours!  
> i just think that tim and martin should have little a making out and also weed. as a treat  
> honestly though i think that all possible pairings in the archival crew are good, all have potential, and all have some excellent dynamics attached
> 
> please comment if you liked!


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